


touch and go

by fenemee



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Angst, Character Development, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Romance, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-06-06 10:55:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15193247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenemee/pseuds/fenemee
Summary: We were the opposite ends of a spectrum. Yet in that moment as we stared into each other's eyes, I swear I have never felt more connected to anyone else. Something about the way his bright eyes gazed into mine was strangely intimate and it made me wish I never had to look away. I never wanted that moment between us to end.It was a foolish thought, of course, for all good things must come and go.





	1. Chapter 1

I was enchanted the first time I laid eyes on him.

It wasn’t as cliché as love at first sight but rather, something about the way he held himself captured my attention. He moved with grace and purpose, and his eyes would twinkle as he settled on a grin, looking as though nothing in the world could ever stop him from achieving whatever it was he desired. And that was what I loved the most about him- his overflowing confidence and the way he seemed to shine and exude positivity.

I would never forget the day we met. The rain was pouring heavily that afternoon, wild gusts of wind whipping frigid drops of water and sending them hurtling in every other direction. My arms were lined with goosebumps as I shivered in my thin coat. Tucking my hands into the pockets, I took in a mouthful of cold air and slowly exhaled.

Some people found comfort in the rain. I was never one of them. The way each drop from above crashed fiercely onto the ground had always scared me as a child, always seeming somewhat chaotic and tumultuous.

Aside from the constant patters of rain, the city that usually buzzed with life was eerily silent. Even the constant chirpings of the birds were gone. All I could hear was the heavy thuds of droplets hitting hard concrete as I sought shelter beneath a stretch of high-rise buildings. That repetitive sound alone was enough to drown out every other noise, swallowing up the conversations of people from across the streets and the honks of distant cars speeding by.

I almost laughed out loud in bitter mirth as I examined the dark, rolling clouds overhead. I couldn’t help but think that the depressing weather was heaven’s way of mocking my low spirits. With a deep sigh, I registered how it would probably take a long while for such a heavy downpour to cease. In the meantime, I decided to wander around the multitude of shops in an attempt to clear my heavy thoughts.

As I walked about aimlessly, I thought about how it had been almost a year now since I had graduated from university. A portion of my friends had decided to further pursue their studies while the others found themselves stable, full-time jobs. I felt incompetent in comparison, a mere part-time editor for a small magazine. I didn’t mind the work but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to commit to doing that for the rest of my life. And that was why my friends have always labeled me a dreamer, claiming that my head was always up in the clouds, my aspirations flighty.

I willed myself to shake off the disheartening thoughts and instead switched my focus to my surroundings. Glancing around, I realized that my feet had brought me to the more secluded part of the city. There were cozy cafes everywhere I looked, a few bookstores and some small-scaled salons scattered here and there. In this damp and dreary weather, the streets were almost entirely void of life. Most city dwellers were probably home, curled up on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate in hand before their favorite television series. That mere image was so enticing I came to the decision to give up the shelter and brave the rain. With my coat pulled over the top of my head, I was about to make the mad dash back to my apartment when I heard the first strum of a guitar.

It was so soft I nearly missed it amongst the pattering of raindrops. The sound was light and soothing, caressing the insides of my ears as if the person handling the instrument had taken upmost care to strum the strings gently. Almost abruptly as it started, the melodious notes disappeared. I paused in my tracks and hesitated, wondering if I had indeed heard the sound or if it was simply exhaustion that was making me hear things. Just when it seemed as though the music had been a figment of imagination, the first note of a song broke out.

The voice was deep and powerful, sounding as though it belonged to a young man. He sang so earnestly and passionately that without thinking, I found myself heading towards the direction of his voice. Perking my ears up, I made my way through the maze of cluttered shops and was greeted by a peculiar sight. A man in his early twenties was standing tall and bold under the heavy downpour.

He was clad in an oversized white shirt that was carelessly tucked into a pair of jeans. His hair was a shock of blonde and it flung about wildly as the man swung his head to the melody. But that was not the most bizarre part. A battered-looking bass guitar was slung across his chest, his fingers teasing the instrument as he sang with his eyes closed. A soft smile was painted on his lips and he looked oblivious to his surroundings, completely immersed in the song.

The way the man was so absorbed in his singing made me feel as though I was intruding on a private and intimate moment. He had no other audience in sight and I wondered if it was rude to stand and watch. I couldn’t bring myself to leave despite that thought. I was too in awe by how talented he was, feet rooted to the ground as I drunk in his performance a few feet away from under an apartment building.

Meanwhile, the rain got heavier by the second, hurtling down with a fierce malignity. Great sheets of water poured from dark skies before crashing onto the ground, the drains around us gurgling and overflowing in muddy pools of water. The cold had somehow managed to weave its way through my coat and it bit painfully into my bones. It suddenly occurred to me how the man must be freezing in his sheer attire under the mercy of the downpour.

The song came to an end at that very moment and he looked up from his guitar, fingers resting on the chords. He raised his right hand to flick his long fringe away from his eyes and I froze when they met mine, ashamed at being caught for staring. A blush crept up my cheeks before I made a hasty attempt to turn away.

"Wait, hold on!" The man called, his eyes widening when he realized that I was about to leave. He must have sensed how nervous I was, for he broke out into a friendly beam, one that made his eyes crinkle. Slowly, as if to not startle me, he lifted an arm and waved.

“Please, don’t leave,” he persuaded, a shy yet insistent expression written on his face. “Stay. It’s been pretty lonely and I swear I don’t bite.”

Willing the heat to fade away from my face, I forced myself to swallow my embarrassment and returned a small smile. “That would be my pleasure. And about before, I- I didn’t mean to stare. Your performance was just really great!”

"It’s all cool,” the man assured. A playful glint lit up his eyes as he beckoned me over. “Why don’t you come over and join me out in the rain? This weather is one hell of an experience, I promise."

My eyes lingered on his wide smile before they turned back to the downpour.

“I can’t.” And that was true.

I would be lying if I claimed that his invitation did not tempt me one bit. The man did look unfazed by the raindrops that were soaking him from head to toe. In fact, he looked really comfortable. But deep down, I knew that acting on such an impulse would only lead to regret later on. I was already feeling cold despite the shelter. Being out in the open would no doubt make me ill.

“When else will you get the chance to do this again? Come on,” he urged. Then, adopting a gentle expression, he said softly, “trust me.”

As soon as those words left his lips, I stepped out from under the building without a second thought. The full sensation of the numbing cold overwhelmed me all at once as droplets of rain hit my body relentlessly. My senses seared to life and I gasped, my mind going into temporary shock. Shuddering unconsciously, my hands wrapped themselves around my shoulders as if that would do me any good. My body had gotten all stiff and rigid in the matter of a few seconds and the man burst out into laughter at that. Finally glancing up, my breath hitched in my throat when I registered his features.

I could tell that the man was good-looking even back when there was some distance put between us. But now, standing closer, I could make out his impossibly sharp jawline and pointed nose. The way they contrasted against his soft, pink lips and warm eyes made him look all the more ethereal. I blinked a few times in disorientation before ripping my gaze away, hand reaching down into my pocket to pull out my wallet.

"Thank you so much for the performance, I really enjoyed it. Please, take this.” Holding my palm out, I offered him a few wads of soaked bills. A look of confusion crossed his features as he stared at the money in my hands.

“No, no… you must have misunderstood me,” he waved the bills away. The man let out a small sigh before he explained. “I’m not doing this for the money. I’m performing simply because I want to. It’s something I find enjoyable.”

With that, my face morphed into a look of horror. Realizing that my mistake could have offended him, I quickly blurted out an apology. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know-”

"Don’t worry about it,” the man cut in. I was about to protest once more but he shrugged reassuringly. “It’s not a big deal. Besides, you’re hardly the first person to do so.”

Nodding my head, I let out an awkward chuckle. “Still, I’m really sorry about that,” I mumbled as I stuffed the bills back into the folds of my wallet. “Also, if you don’t mind me asking…”

“Go ahead,” he hummed, bending down on one knee. The man then carefully proceeded to balance the instrument on his right thigh as he adjusted the strap.

“I’m kind of curious as to why you’re doing this, playing the guitar under the rain. I mean, it’s quite a heavy downpour. Aren’t you afraid of falling ill?”

“A friend of mine dared me to and I thought, why the hell not?” He laid his guitar gently on the ground and glanced up, flashing his white, pearly teeth in a huge smile. “It just sounded like a ridiculously fantastic idea at that point in time.”

“Hold on. You’re doing this just because someone _dared_ you to?” I blurted out as my jaw fell wide open, immediately regretting it as I tasted the saltiness of the rainwater that gushed in. I was amazed yet incredulous at how spontaneous he was.

“Yeah,” The man replied chirpily, as though what he was doing was nothing out of the ordinary. Seeing how taken aback I was, he quirked an eyebrow in amusement. “And what you said about falling sick… I have to admit that it didn’t really cross my mind. I have a pretty strong immune system, so I guess I’ll be okay. On the other hand, are you sure that you want to stay out here any longer? I should have said this earlier but your lips are turning blue.”

My fingers went up to my lips instinctively, realizing that they were cold. But then again, my whole body was shivering at this point in time. For some reason, I found myself unable to give him a reply. His words rendered me silent and I engaged myself in a heated internal debate, wondering if I should heed his advice and head home or to stay. The logical part of my mind tried to knock some sense into me, screaming about how cold and wet and in need of a warm shower I was. However, I couldn’t bring my legs to move, not when there was something so enthralling about the stranger standing before me.

The man took one look at my hesitance and got to his feet, the guitar strapped over his torso once more. "Well… since you’re already here and I assume you plan to stay, I’ll play you a song I wrote. And guess what the good news is?” He scrunched his features up into a mischievous grin. “You’ll be the first person to listen to it.”

"Wait- we barely even know each other," I spluttered, gaping at him as I wondered if I had misheard his words. “Of course, I’m really honored but I’m not sure if I deserve to hear it. Since you wrote it and all, the song must mean a lot to you.”

"I’m grateful that you enjoyed my music. That’s good enough a reason, isn’t it?"

"But still-"

"Too many words,” he interjected, right hand raised in a universal motion for me to stop talking. “Just sit back and enjoy."

I obliged and kept my silence, slipping my hands into the drenched pockets of my coat. Despite my initial rejection, it was undeniable that a part of me felt strangely touched by his invitation. The constant falling of raindrops was making it hard for me to keep my eyes open but I tried my best to, wanting to witness his performance as much as I wanted to hear it.

The man set his fingers on the strings of the worn-out guitar and slowly, his eyelids wavered shut. Sucking in a small breath, the pads of his fingers lightly grazed the chords. And then, something magical happened. Sweet, melodious notes began to fill the air, drifting far and wide and giving life to the empty road we were standing in. I couldn’t help but think it was a shame that there wasn’t anyone else to marvel at how talented he was.

It was hard to describe his music in words. It was everything all at once, conveying emotions of comfort, warmth, sadness and sorrow. As I watched him ease into another world entirely, a pleasant feeling thrummed beneath my skin at the thought of how much he had come to trust me in the matter of the few minutes we had met.

Slowly, my eyes left the way his fingers danced across the instrument. They traced their way up his chest, up his neck before settling on his face. His brows were drawn together in full concentration, the ghost of the slightest smile visible on the edges of his mouth.

There was a child-like beauty to him, not that he seemed juvenile, but the fact that he exuded an air of positivity most adults would have lost by now. _Me included_ , I realized with a jolt. I was one of them, the city dwellers who were so caught up in keeping in step with how fast-paced society was, not knowing that they had become pessimistic and bitter individuals who knew nothing about life beyond work.

As my mind drifted off into deep thoughts, the last few notes of his song faded into the dull pattering of the downpour. My eyes fluttered open, not realizing that I had closed them somewhere in the middle of his performance. They were brimming with tears for some reason and I stood still as a wave of emotions stirred from within me.

"It's beautiful," I breathed out, meaning every word I said. He gave me a smile then, one so sincere and genuinely happy it made me thankful that I stayed.

He was beautiful, the way wet strands of blonde hair were plastered carelessly to his forehead. I remembered how his eyes sparkled with every grin and how he seemed to smile so effortlessly. He was full of life, constantly radiating with a vibrant glow that contrasted against the dull and monotone backdrop of the city.

We were the opposite ends of a spectrum. Yet in that moment as we stared into each other's eyes, I swear I have never felt more connected to anyone else. Something about the way his bright eyes gazed into mine was strangely intimate and it made me wish I never had to look away. I never wanted that moment between us to end.

It was a foolish thought, of course, for all good things must come and go.

"Aren't you going to introduce yourself?" I prodded him some time afterward as he bent down to pick up his guitar case. Carefully, as though handling a fragile object, the man slid the instrument into the bag and zipped it shut. I couldn’t figure out why he would bother doing so, for the guitar looked as though it was barely holding on together and about to fall to pieces.

He shook his head gently, much to my surprise. "We met as strangers, so we'll part as strangers. All you'll ever recall is the boy playing guitar under the rain and nothing more. This way, you won't ever forget me."

I ignored the twinge of disappointment in my chest. "What about tomorrow, then? Will you still be here?" My voice rose a little with desperation, willing to hold onto anything, even if it is just a small, tiny possibility that I would get to see him again. The man simply smiled in response.

“Watch out for a rainbow,” he said instead. “My gut instinct tells me there’ll be one later on.”

"I hope so. That'll be a really amazing view," I murmured and he nodded in agreement. Our conversation faded into comfortable silence as we regarded the city around us, all of its looming skyscrapers and impressive glass buildings, not paying heed to the beads of water that continued to fall.

The rain stopped just as he left.

As abruptly as we met, he took one look at his phone and frowned, citing that he had someone to meet and that it had somehow slipped his mind. The last memory I had of him was of his wild, frenzied hair whipping in the wind as he took off running down the street, guitar case slung across his chest, right hand raised as he bid me farewell.

Reality claimed me the moment he left, a bittersweet emotion in my chest as I watched his disappearing figure. The thought of how there was still a huge pile of work waiting to be completed before the impending deadline hit me and I deflated almost immediately.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, I pulled my coat tightly around my frame as I made my way back to the apartment, shivering and drenched. People were throwing me strange looks as I navigated through the sheltered walkways, water dripping off my clothes. I couldn’t blame them, knowing how much of a mess I must have looked. I felt so small then, and I wondered where the confidence I had when I stepped out into the rain had gone.

My thoughts strayed back to those of him as I continued my journey home with a heavy heart. He was so different from the rest, he was special. He wasn’t like the others- _or me_ \- there was more to him than the many people I have met throughout my years living in the city. I couldn’t help but wonder if we would ever chance upon each other again. We were nothing but mere strangers after all, destined to cross each other’s path only for a fleeting moment before our fates diverged once more. The city was huge and the possibility of us running into each other was practically zero.

It was a sad thought and even when the skies lightened to a lovely shade of violet, my emotions stayed down. As I curled up in bed and stared out of the window, I waited and waited but the man was wrong.

There was no rainbow that day.

 

* * *

 

 

It was by pure luck that I met him again the following week.

It was almost evening by the time I stepped out from the subway station, the daylight draining away and giving way to darker skies overhead. But as the day made way for the night, the city only grew more alive. The myriad of bars and clubs littered around the city were only starting to open up and getting ready to welcome the day’s customers.

As the evening breeze combed through my hair, I stopped walking and took a moment to rub my blood-shot eyes, feeling the weariness from the day's work sink deep into my bones. I hadn’t been able to sleep at all the previous night, having staying up late to complete a draft. Needless to say, the next day spent at the office was hell. I felt like a zombie, simply dragging my body through a routine as I struggled to keep my eyes open.

As I walked past a group of middle-aged men in suits leaning against the railings by the entrance of the subway, I instinctively turned away, all too familiar with the smell of cigarettes. I knew that taking the usual route home would only result in me having to squeeze in with the late-night partygoers. I simply didn’t feel up for that tonight.

On a normal day, I wouldn’t have made that choice. But that day was an exception. I was too tired to be rational and decided to opt for the shorter but dimly lit route home. I was cutting through several high-rise apartment buildings when the heavy odor of paint hit my nostrils. The smell was wafting from a dark alleyway where someone must be busy spray painting. It only took me a few more steps before I spotted a young man kneeling on the ground, a bottle of spray paint in his hands.

My breath was stuck in my throat as long, blonde hair came into view. The man spun around at the sound of footsteps, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. As soon as his line of sight fell on me, his eyes widened a little in recognition and a small smile formed at the edges of his lips.

"Thank god it’s just you,” he exhaled loudly in relief. “I thought you were a cop or something. I was ready to just drop everything and bolt down the alley."

I laughed at his words as I headed over to the wall he was working on, examining the various cans of paint that lay scattered all over the ground. “That guilt of yours must mean you’re doing something against the law,” I teased.

He shrugged innocently, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just making art.”

"Let me guess. You woke up this morning with the urge to do something crazy, didn’t you?" I chided with a knowing look and the man barked out a hearty laugh.

"Not exactly but you’re almost there. You see, that same friend of mine was complaining that despite our city’s extravagance, the housing areas are mostly dull and plain. And that was when this grand idea struck me."

"You're unbelievable." I shook my head and the man's chest swelled with pride, as though he had just received a compliment.

"Feel free to join me if you want,” he offered as he reached over to pass me a can of dark purple paint. I stared at the can of paint in his hands, hesitating for a moment before I decided to decline his invitation.

"It's fine, I'll just watch you. I’m not really one to break the rules."

"Just give it a try," the man encouraged as he gently pushed the can into my palms. "I'm pretty sure a part of you is dying to just splash some colors over these dirty walls. Most of the older graffiti have faded away over the years. Think of it this way- we're doing this neighbourhood a favor by painting over them."

His argument sounded somewhat reasonable. But I simply sunk to my knees and watched as he clumsily scribbled the words "When life gives you lemons, take them, they’re free!" across the walls. Taking the time to scan the rest of the walls surrounding us, I noticed how they were all sprawled with encouraging messages and motivational quotes.

My fingers were itching to do something as I watched him decorate the walls. I finally decided to give in to the temptation, scooting over to an empty spot by a crumbling wall and picked up a can of silver paint. The quiet hiss of the can was all I heard as the both of us worked in silence. Seized by a sudden sense of determination, I tried to bring my drawing to life- onyx eyes tinted with specks of gold, completed with grey, feathery wings.

It took me half an hour before I was done. Placing the can gently on the ground, I leaned back and proudly inspected my piece. A majestic eagle now took up a large portion of the previously yellow-tainted wall, soaring mid-air as it broke free from a silver cage. It symbolized freedom.

"Woah," a gasp came from behind me, followed by the light padding of feet. The man’s eyes were wide like a child's, his lips slightly parted. "What I've been doing look like a child's work compared to yours. You're really good at this, I’ll give you that."

“You’re really overdoing yourself with the compliments. It’s not that great.”

 “I mean what I said,” he insists, a wistful look on his face. “You and I, we could be a team.”

I wanted to tell him that I would love to. Instead, not used to being complimented, my face turned pink and I managed to mumble a quick “Thanks.” In all honesty, I wouldn’t mind spending time with him like this, roaming the streets spontaneously and doing whatever we felt like. I realized with a pang that I didn’t really have anything to look forward to in life.

The man was not quite done marveling over my work. His fingers traced and ghosted over the outline of the eagle and I watched as a faint smile settled on his features. When his full face came into view, I stifled a snigger when I realized that he had accidentally smeared a line of glittery pink across his cheek. He frowned when he caught sight of how I was trying to keep my laughter down.

"What's wrong? Did I get some paint on my face?" He lifted a brow as I continued giggling, shooting me a puzzled expression.

"What are you talking about?" I choked as I watched him sweep his bangs out of his eyes, leaving more streaks of color on his golden brown skin. "There’s absolutely nothing there."

It was a little after nine when we decided to pack up and grab some food from the nearby shopping district. As we navigated our way through the sea of people, a number of heads turned our way to throw us nasty glares, some even going as far as to pinch their noses. I couldn't really blame them. The foul-smelling odor of the paint clung stubbornly to us both, and it made us seem as though we just had a bath in a sewer.

"Where are we heading?" I poked him lightly in the ribs, trying to catch his attention amidst the noise and cacophony of the bustling nightlife.

"You'll see in awhile. There's this new shop I've been meaning to visit for the longest time."

Something about the way he was so bent on keeping it a secret made it seem like he was up to no good. Fuelled by curiosity, I followed closely behind his lead as the crowd swallowed us whole. It took us only a few more minutes, pushing past the sweaty bodies of other city dwellers before we arrived at a more secluded area of the shopping district. I vaguely wondered how I had never known the existence of that particular area when I had grown up in the city.

"This is it,” he announced, arms folded over his chest as he stopped walking.

My eyes zoomed in on the pastel-themed shop we were standing before and a feeling of incredulity seized me. It was an ice cream shop.

"We're having _ice cream_ for dinner?"

He nodded, flashing me a charming grin. “We are, because why not?"

And that was the end of our discussion. Without waiting for a reply, he strolled on ahead, pulling the door open and gesturing for me to enter. As soon as I stepped in, I noticed that the store was fairly new, the walls a light shade of blue with yellow tables and chairs situated here and there. It was a cute place, I had to admit, and that only made me wonder why there weren't many customers around. Apart from a middle aged woman and a young child with ice cream smeared all over his face, we were the only ones to visit the store.

"I was getting bored of doing it alone, honestly. I’m glad that you came along just when I was planning on packing up and heading home. As a form of gratitude, I’ll treat you for accompanying me today."

"You don't have to do that. It’s fine," I insisted as I slid into a seat, my heart fluttering a little.

"I'm not known for being a gentleman for nothing." He waved my words away as he left to make his way to the counter. From afar, I saw the serious look on the man’s face as he concentrated on reading the menu. He made it seem as though deciding on what flavors to pick entailed a life or death situation.

My jaw dropped in disbelief when he returned, struggling to balance a generous bowl of ice cream on a serving tray. Staring at the bowl before me, I realized that he must have ordered a portion that was enough to feed a whole family.

"I bought one scoop of every flavor. All twenty-six of them," he declared gleefully as he registered the look of shock written on my face.

"I don’t think we’ll be able to finish it all. It's too much, even for the two of us."

He shot me a greasy wink. “The whole point of this isn’t about finishing, it’s about trying a little of every flavor."

I sighed in resignation. There was no way I could possibly win an argument against him. “Let’s start digging in then. It’s already starting to melt.”

“Ladies first,” he says, gently pushing the huge bowl towards me.

Scrutinizing the burst of colors before me, I took my spoon and dug it into what I thought was vanilla. I took my first taste mindlessly and blanched visibly when a nasty flavor exploded in my mouth. The urge to spit out the blob of ice cream was overwhelming, but I took in a deep breath before I managed to swallow it down with the help of water.

"How is it? Is it good, is it bad?" The man asked eagerly as he leaned forward in his chair, his hands splayed on the table in anticipation.

"It's horrible,” I confessed between large gulps of water. “This isn’t vanilla, am I right?"

"It's not," he confirmed. As though he had expected me to react in such a way, a pleased smirk crawled up his face. "The flavor you just tried was vinegar."

I couldn’t help feeling slightly betrayed as I downed the remaining content of my cup and narrowed my eyes at him. I should have known that this was all planned the moment he expressed his keen interest in visiting this particular shop. "Where exactly are we? This isn't an ordinary ice cream shop."

The smug look stayed on his face, confirming my suspicions.

“I can’t believe you lied to me,” I moaned in disbelief as I smacked my lips, still tasting the ghost of a flavor.

“I didn’t say I was bringing you to an ordinary shop, did I?” The man rebutted slyly.

He was right. I made that assumption all on my own, because who would have thought that someone would be gutsy enough to open a store like this? I lifted my eyes to scan through the menu above the counter, realizing all too late that there were some questionable flavors such as 'Spicy Cheddar' and 'Super Broccoli'.

It took us half an hour to finish the bile-tasting ice cream and by the time we were done, I felt so full and bloated I was ready to barf everything out. I made a mental note to never return to that particular shop ever again.

“I might come back for ‘Lemoney Lemon’ and ‘Crazy Coconut’. Those weren’t that bad.”

“I like the lemon one too. It’s probably the most decent flavor,” I agreed as we took embarked on a stroll around the city, admiring the neon streetlights as we let the food digest. We somehow found ourselves leaning against the wall of a twenty-four hour convenience store as we took in the night view. I could feel the cool air resting against my face as soft, gentle wind caressed my hair.

"When do you plan on telling me your name?” I muttered, breaking the silence as we stared at the quiet, desolate park opposite where we stood. “It's been a week since we met.”

"Not yet," he whispered. The man stilled for a moment before he turned to gaze into my eyes. "We weren't even supposed to meet again. You were supposed to remember me as the boy playing guitar under the rain, nothing more than that."

Under the illumination of the flickering lights, he looked so much more vulnerable all of a sudden. His usually sharp and harsh features were softened by the shadows casted by the streetlights. He seemed more like a boy, no longer the bold and daring man from my memories. I opened my mouth and was about to speak when his phone rang. Excusing himself, the man whipped it out from the pocket of his ripped jeans before walking away.

I watched from a distance as he paced back and forth, worry creasing his features. By the looks of how frantic he had become, something horrible must had happened. I felt useless as I stood by watching, unsure of how to comfort him. I wasn't even sure if I had the right to. Because like what he often brought up, the truth was that we were nothing but mere strangers.

"I'm sorry," he apologized as soon as he ended the call and returned. There was a troubled look on his face and I decided that I liked it better when he was smiling. The man had one hand pressed against his temple while the other clutched his phone so tightly his knuckles had gone white.

"Is everything all right?" I asked carefully, not wanting to cross the line by sounding too intrusive. "You should leave if you're needed elsewhere."

"Yeah, I kind of have to go. I'm really sorry for leaving so abruptly but thanks for understanding. I enjoyed myself today.” He offered me a weak grin, one that was weary but genuine all at the same time. I nodded and offered him the brightest smile I could muster as I bade him farewell. With that, the man turned around and left.

As my eyes trailed behind his leaving figure, I couldn't help but feel as though the memories we forged had never existed in the first place. Those two days we had spent together went by so fast they were nothing but a blur. And just like the first time we met, he had left so quickly and suddenly. I didn't even know his name. He didn't know mine, either.

 _Does he even want to?_ A small, ugly voice in my head spoke. For all I know, I could mean nothing to him. The both of us were strangers and that was it. That was what he had always stressed on. I felt pathetic for being so greedy, for wanting to push the boundary and get to know him better.

Still, I couldn't stop myself from wondering if I was as special to him as he was to me. In the matter of a few hours, he was somehow able to make me forget how lonely and unhappy I truly was.

That night, under the silver glow of the moonlight, my feet followed the paths we had previously taken and I found myself back at the alley I found him in. There wasn't anyone else in sight; the only sound my own ragged breathing as I headed down the narrow passage.

Most of the street lamps were hardly even working anymore, shining dully and barely bright enough to light up the concrete ground. Under the gloomy expanse of the dark sky, my eyes struggled to make out traces of what we had left behind. My fingers ghosted over the walls, desperate to find any evidence that pointed back to him.

As the lamp nearest to where I stood flickered and died out, a sudden wave of loneliness choked me. I looked up at the starless night sky and fell to my knees, silent tears running down my face.


	2. Chapter 2

to be updated.


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